Geese honk in the distance. The morning fog barely burned off, the sun slowly warms the earth. Birds sing their gentle melody, and one perches on the tree in front of me. The winter-bare branches swell with tiny nodules, telltale signs of a creation readying to awake from slumber.
Wrapped in a blanket, I survey the tiny ripples in the lake beyond me. Fishermen trolling along the shore gently disrupt the glassy green waters. One casts his line and my attention catches back to my porch, where my writer friends quietly enjoy this early morning with me. One pecks on her laptop while another thumbs through her Bible, highlighted and marked in a kaleidoscope of colors.
Quiet. Such a foreign sensation. Even the most ignored sounds echo loudly in the background — the jet thousands of miles above us, the early morning motor boat, the rustling of pages, early morning porch conversations in the distance.
Quiet. With two young children and a schedule full of activities, quiet usually falls victim to the everyday.
But on this weekend, three of us escaped from the demands of daily life and retreated into quiet, into a space where we create with our words while creation serenades us with its gentle song.
I recall the weekend before, when my family and I escaped into nature, camping for the first time since our kids were born. Screens locked away, my husband and I read in lounge chairs while our children played with fallen sticks and discovered the joy of wide open spaces. Though all is never quiet with children, the sense of calm enveloped our souls.
We must make time to do this more.
As a believer in a Creator, is it any wonder we find peace and joy in the place He created for humanity to enjoy? Is it any wonder the further we slip into our walled homes and the more we become prisoners of technology, our spirits suffocate? Is it any wonder that quietness in nature, of all things, speaks so loudly to our innermost sanctum?
Shadows of the trees grow shorter as the sun’s heat warms my skin. Geese continue their banter and birds sing. I traded my hot coffee for cold water and realize how I take for granted this gift of creation too often.
But spring! Each year as nature awakes, it calls to us, beckoning us to rise from our slumber and see the gift for what it is! It calls loudly but within our walled homes we risk not perceiving it. We can’t hear the quiet, a balm to the aching muscles of our busy lives. Spring calls to us, but we have to step outside the confines we’ve erected and look.
As creation awakens, it calls us to wake up, to return to appreciate the gift it is. Spring, the season of new beginnings, beckons us. May we put down our phones, step outside, and heed the call.